


Bite Your Tongue

by ever_enthralled



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Aged-Up Character(s), Bullying, College, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Swearing, Toxic Behavior, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24171298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_enthralled/pseuds/ever_enthralled
Summary: Tsukki has a few things to learn–how to be a decent god damned person, for one.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 213





	Bite Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> i just... i really love tsukki but i also often fantasize about people calling him on his bullshit so like

It’s stupid, so stupid, you really should not let it get to you like this, but _everything_ Tsukishima does gets to you, every word out of his mouth, every roll of his eyes, and _especially_ every unnecessarily rude comment to complete fucking strangers. Honestly, what is the point? Why does he insist on being so, so–

You grab your backpack from the chair next to you, unable to listen to your _sort of, almost_ friend talk down to the freshman any longer. The kid is scared and overwhelmed, just trying to find his footing in college. He does not need someone like Tsukishima treating him like garbage. He probably already feels like trash without the senior’s _helpful input_. 

You don’t even offer a “see ya,” just book it to the nearest stairwell in something close to a rage. You should call him out, set him straight, let him know that this whole asshole-cool-guy front he puts on isn’t cute. Not even a little bit. 

But, you’ve been holding your tongue for the better part of a semester now, having sat next to Tsukki on the first day of your geochemistry lab, and well, there was really no going back. He’s not mean to _you_ (most of the time), and even if he does have a couple snappy comments to throw your way every now and again, they don’t have the same bite as those reserved for others. It’s confusing because it drives you _insane_ while also making you feel special in a weird way, and you really have no business feeling _anything_ for Kei Tsukishima. No business.

Too bad you do. 

Which is why you actually stop on the middle platform of the staircase when you hear him call your name. 

“What the hell? Where are you going? We’re supposed to be _studying_.” He says it like you’re stupid even though he knows you’re not. Fuck, you even scored better than him on the last two lab quizzes you both took. 

You pivot on your heel and glare at him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, but for some reason, all you want to do is screw with that poor fucking kid, so like–” you swing your arms out by your side in question. “Whatever, Tsukki. You do you.”

“Wait, wait,” he laughs as he descends the last few steps, clearly amused. “Are you–are you upset about that? You know that’s just what I do–”

“You’re fucking mean! You’re an asshole, Kei! And, it’s like–it’s like you think that makes you cool or edgy, but it doesn’t! It just means you’re not fun to be around, okay?!” You pant, a little out of breath, a little frantic.

Whoops. Hadn’t meant to say all that.

Tsukishima looks down his nose at you, light eyebrows high on his forehead as he regards you like you’re something of interest. You brace yourself for some sort of scathing comment, some patronizing line that will leave you simultaneously fuming and weak-kneed. And then… 

“If I’m such a _drag_ to hang around, why do you insist on spending time with me, hm?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, the one you’ve gotten so used to that never ceases to make you clench your fists in irritation. It’s a taunt, just like everything else he says. 

Still, those whiskey eyes are narrowed behind his glasses, darting all over your face as if searching for something, a truth or a lie or a hint, you’re not sure. You’re never sure with Tsukki. Obviously. 

“Because–… Because I…” God, why _do_ you spend so much time with him? Sure, he makes you laugh every once in a while. He’s kind of insanely smart, has the most _adorable_ dinosaur fascination, and okay, he’s also nice to look (gaze) at, but it’s not like you genuinely _enjoy_ his company most of the time. It’s convenience at this point. It’s–

“Huh? What was that? Because you _what_?” And he’s putting a hand up to his ear for emphasis, exaggerating in what could be a comical manner but is really just infuriating. 

Blood boils beneath your skin, and it must show in the form of a blush because Tsukishima smirks, a smug lift to his lips that makes you dizzy and livid at the same time. He’s good at doing that, making you feel so conflicted in so many different ways that you can’t think straight, can’t even form some semblance of a rebuttal, and your silence only encourages him, breathing a rude, “tch,” through his teeth before he steps closer. 

You expect him to call you a name–dumb, pathetic, or something equally invalidating. You’re extremely caught off guard when he instead raises a hand, hooking two long fingers beneath your chin and tilting your head up. Tsukishima has to stoop a bit to reach your eye level, brings his face dangerously close to yours, then grins sideways. 

“You wanna know what I think, (Y/n)?" 

_No. No, I don’t. I don’t I don’t I don’t–_

"I think you like hanging out with me. In fact, I think this little show,” he grips your chin just a little tighter, shaking your head back and forth for a short moment until you roughly slap his hand away. He doesn’t seem fazed, just continues, though his words are sharper than before, more purposeful, “ _This little show_ is your own frustration personified. You’re not upset with _me_. You’re upset with yourself for being attracted to m–”

“Fuck _off_ , Kei,” you grit. The impulse to pound your fists against his chest is present, but you can’t do that, can’t make any more of a spectacle of yourself because he would undoubtedly use it against you, chew you up and spit you right back out. No, you have to stay calm, have to breathe. _Just breathe_. 

“Is that all you’ve got? No better argument?” That sing-song tone curls around each of his words like smoke, baiting you with every syllable. 

You squint up at him, jaw sliding forward as you pick out just the right thing to say. It has to be enough to stun him, make him lose his momentum. It also needs to knock him down a peg (or ten). 

Risking both your physical health (because at this point, your blood pressure is through the roof) and your dignity, you cross your arms over your chest and cock a hip out. “Even if I _am_ attracted to you on some superficial level–” his eyes go wide for a fraction of a second– “your perpetual _douchiness_ cancels it out. It’s exhausting.” _You’re exhausting_. Tsukishima frowns, opens his mouth to retort since he _always_ has something to say to _everything_ , but you wave a hand to cut him off. “It’s honestly not even worth it.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago, Tsukishima is speechless. All he does is stare, eyes round and locked on to yours, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling steadily with each calculated inhale and exhale, and it feels…

Not nearly as good as you hoped it would, honestly. 

You’re able to hold your defensive posture for a few more seconds before you let your arms fall to your side, breaking your joined stare when you flick hair from your warm face. 

“Look, Tsukki–”

“Do you mean that?”

“Which part?” You just dropped a few bombs in there; you’re going to need some specificity. 

“You don’t think I’m worth–what, a friendship or effort or–”

You cut him off again. “My time? Not if you get your rocks off by bullying scared underclassmen, no." 

He blinks at you. Huffs. _Pouts_. 

"He was being annoying–”

“ _You’re_ annoying,” you groan, finally relaxing enough to step back and lean against the wall behind you. It seems like the worst might be over. Tsukishima doesn’t have that bloodthirsty glimmer to his eyes anymore, doesn’t look like he’s ready to attack at any moment, prey on your weaknesses. 

He snorts, “Uh, yeah, you’ve made that quite clear already.”

“I just mean, like… doesn’t it get old? Aren’t you tired of this whole aloof, icy mask?”

“Who says it’s a mask?" 

You shoot him an unimpressed look. "It has to be. Nobody is that cold.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Tsukki laughs through his nose. “I am." 

"Okay, edge lord,” you mutter, missing the scandalized expression on his face in favor of pulling your phone out of your pocket. Close to 4 PM–a few missed messages, notifications from Facebook, nothing all that important, but you’re able to further compose yourself now that you aren’t looking at Tsukishima. The fact that you can still feel his eyes on you is unsettling, but you’re able to keep it together–not shiver under his scrutiny. 

Tsukishima clears his throat, all expectant and entitled, and you spare him an unamused glance to find his hands turned palm out, a question. _Is that it?_

“I don’t know what you want from me, Tsukki,” you admit, sliding your phone back into your pocket. The conversation hit a hard stop, and there’s no way to rekindle it without either backtracking or starting a brand new argument, and neither of those sound appealing. “I said what I said, and I’m not apologizing, so–”

“I’m not asking you to apologize, idiot.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” you bite. “I’m not an idiot, and you know that, so why? _Why_ do you always have to–” it dissolves into a frustrated growl, and you push yourself off the wall and turn to walk down the rest of the stairs, mumbling a tired, “Not even worth it.”

“Hey– _Hey!_ ”

There’s a hand on your shoulder, and in less than a second, Tuskishima is galloping down the stairs in front of you, stopping at the bottom and then planting both of his feet as if willing himself to become some kind of wall. 

“What?” You stop at the last two steps, about the same height as him now but separated by a couple feet.

“You can’t just…” He pauses, pushes his glasses up his nose, then begins again, “If you’re going to criticize, you may as well make it constructive.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Typically, when you tear something down, it’s to build something better in its place–”

“Or, it’s just because you need the space,” you snort, moving to step around him, but a long arm shoots out, hand settling on your collarbone to hold you in place like it belongs there. It’s forward and unnecessary and probably just another powerplay, but it does succeed in stopping you.

“Tell me what you would change about me,” Tsukishima states firmly.

You blink at him, brow pulling down into a frown as you think because, really, “I can’t change anything. That’s all you, buddy. Your damage, your responsibility.”

“But, if you could,” he presses.

His hand is still on your shoulder, palm warm over your heart (a terrible place for it) and his fingertips fall over the divot of your clavicle. You reach up and gently remove it, muttering something about him being too close to your boob. In reality, you just don’t want him tracking your pulse. 

“Why does it matter? My opinion shouldn’t mean anything, so–”

“It does, though.”

Sucking on the soft skin of your lip, you meet his eyes–steady, focused–then look away again. There’s a hot sensation tickling the back of your neck, like someone is breathing against you, and the feeling only increases when you notice you’re still lazily holding onto two of Tsukki’s fingers, fingers that curl around yours tighter now as he reiterates, “It matters.”

Ridiculous. The only reason he would care even a little bit about what you think of him is– _oh_. Now, that’s a thought.

Your mouth turns up into a mischievous smile, and though Tsukishima doesn’t look away, his Adam’s apple bobs with a gulp. “Tsukki, do you have a cr–”

“ _Don’t_ say it,” he stops you, disdain tainting his voice. His nose wrinkles in disgust, and he adds, “It’s too fucking juvenile.”

“You just said the same thing about me not three minutes ago!”

“I suggested you were attracted to me, which you very obviously are–” you scoff and shake your head, not to deny it, just because of the _nerve_ – “I never said you had a, a _crush_ on me, like some kind of child.”

“Oh my god, it’s the same thing.”

“Definitely isn’t.”

You want to be appalled and enraged and all kinds of upset, but the truth is… The truth is you’re self-satisfied and a little excited, thrilled even. Kei Tsukishima just _mostly_ admitted to having feelings for you. You’re not entirely sure what feelings those might be, but you’re pretty sure they’re positive, even if he does look a little disturbed by the mere idea. 

“Whatever, can we please go? I’m ready to get out of this god forsaken building and back to my apartment.”

You hop down those last two steps, end up nearly on top of Tsukishima’s feet, chest to chest, then faltering backward like a fucking baby deer learning to walk. He catches your arm easily, rolling his eyes and chastising you, “So fucking clumsy.”

“It’s not my fault your feet are huge. I didn’t wanna step on them!”

“I’m 6’3”, sue me. Besides,” his eyes go narrow, and he shows another one of those trademark smirks. “You know what they say about big feet.”

“Big socks,” you deadpan, finally squirming around him so that you’re on solid ground without his help. You start walking, cinching your backpack a little higher on your shoulders, then call out, “You know there’s no medical correlation between height and dick size, right?”

“It’s called proportion, sweetheart,” Tsukishima chuckles, falling into stride with you, a bit slower than his normal pace. 

“Whatever. All I said was that you’re sometimes kind of attractive. That doesn’t mean I want to see your… parts.”

“Maybe not _yet_.” You look up at him as you both step outside, the sun immediately casting a golden glow upon Tsukishima’s messy hair and making him look much too angelic. 

“Maybe not ever, with that attitude.”

Tsukki lets out a dramatic sigh, raises his hands to cradle his head as he walks, then grumbles, almost inaudibly, “I’ll work on it.”

￭

“ _Fuck_ ,” you swear when your back hits the mattress, body bouncing slightly as Tsukishima crawls over you. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do–the way you just,” he tries to cut you off with a hot kiss, but you just talk against his lips, muffled and clumsy, “you kept your mouth shut, didn’t say fucking anything to that nerd, just–”

Tsukki breathes out a laugh, finally able to shut you up by biting your lower lip and tugging roughly. He lets go, pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you arch up against him, locking your ankles around his slim waist. 

It was beautiful, _beautiful_. He had been in the middle of a scrimmage, corrected an off receive, popped it up into the air perfectly only for two of his teammates to crash into each other when they’d both gone for the ball. Even you knew it was a rookie mistake, and you had braced yourself for a round of name-calling or a scathing rant about how useless both of the young men were, but it never came.

Instead, Tsukki had just shrugged it off and returned to his position by the net, and _god_ , you had never been so turned on in your life–a slightly troubling fact, but you can’t be too worried about it right now, not with Tsukki grinding between your thighs, sucking bruises onto your neck.

“Yeah, you like that?” He groans, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “You like when I’m a decent human being?”

You choke on your own laughter, shove his head back so that you can look at him properly and then nod, still snickering when you reply, “Yeah, I do. Wanna see how much?”

Before Tsukishima can make any other smartass remark, you push him over, letting him roll onto his back so that you can situate yourself over his hips. You reach under yourself to palm over his covered cock, grinning at the way he immediately ruts up into your hand. His glasses are crooked on his face, eyes having gone cloudy a while ago, right about when he saw you mentally undressing him during practice. Once it had ended, Tsukishima wasted no time in packing his things, obviously eager to get the fuck out of the gym and to the privacy of his own mostly private apartment. Yams wouldn’t be arriving for another hour or so, so the two of you had some time. 

“See how easy it is to get me into bed?” You tease, rolling down the waistband of his sweatpants and freeing his hard on. “All you have to do is be nice.”

It’s been a struggle since you started dating Tsukki. He’s vindictive by nature. You don’t know why, but you know he is. You’ve seen him lash out at his mom and brother, friends and teammates, and it makes you wince every time because you know it just means you’re going to have to call him out and argue about it until he gets it through his head that, _you can’t just say things like that to people. It hurts, Kei._

It also set an early precedent that when he’s a dick, you don’t want much to do with him, but when he’s able to hold his tongue and play nice, there are _prizes to be won_. It’s twisted and probably a little toxic, but the truth is you’re in way deeper than you originally thought. That superficial crush you had on this tall, talented asshole has turned into much more–real affection and fondness. You look at him, and your chest gets tight, body warm, and it’s impossible not to smile, especially when Tsukki just glances at you and says something stupid like, _“You like me? How embarrassing.”_

And, you do. _Oh_ , you do, you do. You wouldn’t be putting up with his shit otherwise, not that you’re a saint or anything but–

Tsukishima covers your hand with his own, pumping his cock and swiping his thumb over his slit to gather the pre that’s gathering there. You track his movements all the way up to your face, his index finger curled beneath your chin as he presents the wet digit to your mouth, and Tsukki watches completely entranced when you envelope it, tongue swirling over the pad of his thumb before you bite gently. There are better things you could be doing with your tongue, like running it along that vein on the underside of his cock. You trace it with a finger as if to project your thought process, then slide down his thighs, pulling his pants with you until they’re tossed in a corner of his room. 

You’re an inch away from his flushed cockhead, licking your lips at the sight, when Tsukki gets your attention with a slightly breathy, “Wait.” He sits up, tugs his shirt over his head, then takes his glasses off and commands, “Sit on my face.”

You perk up, electricity shooting through you at the idea. You had kind of wanted this to be about him, but you’re also not going to say ‘no’ to him eating you out, so…

“Yeah, okay.” You’re up and undressing in record speed, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look Tsukishima gets as he makes himself comfortable on his pillows, holding out steadying hands as you straddle his head. 

He licks teasingly at first, and fuck, you didn’t think you’d be so sensitive today, but you are because you squeak and buck with every swipe until he has to clamp fingers on your thighs and force you further down on him. 

You let out a long, drawn out moan when you’re able to relax, falling forward onto your elbows and taking him into your mouth, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you do. 

His tongue is warm and slick, thrusting into your hole then flicking your clit, leaving trails of saliva and adding to your already very wet state. It’s hard to focus when he’s doing that, but you’re able to get most of Tsukki’s length into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, moving up and down and whining around him as he spreads you open a little more. His hips stutter upward, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and when he angles his head and forces his tongue further into your pussy, you’re muscles go slack. You swallow him deeper, mind hazy and body pliant. You can feel drool on your chin and tears pricking your eyes, a couple falling when Tsukishima thrusts upward. 

He’s relentless with his tongue, massaging the ring of muscle at your entrance until it’s replaced with a long finger. The angle keeps him from being able to reach your clit, but he _can_ hit your g-spot, making you writhe on top of him as you choke on his length. 

You can feel sweat dampening your skin now, the fan spinning above just barely keeping you from overheating, but everything feels _so good_ , and you’re able to take Tsukki deeper in your throat than you ever have before, even if it is hard to breathe. Another finger slides into you, and Tsukki pumps them back and forth a couple times before pulling back and tangling them in your hair in order to pull you off of him. 

He slips from your mouth with an obscene, wet noise, and paired with the ragged moan that leaves due the tug at your scalp, it probably sounds like something out of a porn video. 

You swing off of him ungracefully, only to turn around and straddle his hips, obeying when he tells you, “Sit on my cock.”

The stretch is inconsequential when he feels like _this_ , thicker than a tongue or his fingers and reaching further than either could. His flared head drags against your spot with every thrust, pace quickening into something frantic and sloppy, both of you too worked up to make this last any longer than it has too.

Tsukki’s fingers are digging into your hips, nails close to breaking skin when he scratches up your sides. He catches one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the bud between them before pinching hard enough to make you cry out. Bracing himself on an elbow, he sits up then brings his mouth to your chest, laving over the sore flesh with his tongue, flicking back and forth before sucking it between his lips.

You bring your own hand down to where your hips are meeting, dipping two fingers between your folds to moisten them, then massage over your clit with the skill you’ve been honing since you were fucking fourteen, and _oh oh fuck, “Right there, holy shit, Kei–”_

He releases the nipple in his mouth, concentrates on pounding into that perfect spot until you’re unraveling, pussy contracting around him in time with those endless waves that leave you loose and hot. 

When it’s over, you slump forward, let out a short yelp when Tsukki rolls you onto your back, then slips back inside of you and begins thrusting in abandon. It doesn’t take long before he’s pulling out all at once, fisting his cock and jacking himself off until he comes, white strands decorating your chest like modern fucking art. 

He breathes heavily, red from his hairline to the middle of his torso. His blond hair is darkened by sweat, lips swollen, face still a mess from eating you out, and fuck, both of you are _wrecked_ , just panting and staring at each other. 

“I guess,” he huffs out, running a hand through his slick hair. “I can probably keep being nice if it means…” he makes a vague gesture between the two of you then collapses on the mattress.

You laugh and pat his stomach. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “No big deal.”

_Right. No big deal._

You laugh to yourself as you get up and make your way to the bathroom to rinse off the mess on your chest. You’re not sure he’ll be able to handle being nice all the time, but this is a start. Maybe he’ll get there one day, and until then, well, you have no problem with rewarding good behavior.


End file.
